In the Days to Come
by ModernDayBard
Summary: A series of one-shots that follow up on the events of 'If I'm a Hero, Why Don't I Feel Super.' (Young Justice; Updated when inspiration strikes.)
1. Normalacy

**Hey, ModernDayBard here! Until there's enough interest/inspiration for a full sequel to if 'I'm a Hero Why Don't I Feel Super?' I figured I'd post a series of one shots with Nightwing and Nicole. There will be no regular updates, as I just jot these down as they come to me. Well, here's the first.**

**Of course: I don't own YJ or its associated characters—just my oc's.**

_*A nice, normal date,* _Nicole thought with a flush of nervousness. _*A nice, normal date in our civilian identities—just a couple of regular teenagers.*_

She took a moment to size up her reflection in the mirror: a knee-length red dress with a thick, black belt; red flats; her curly red hair wrestled back into a bun (which it was already in the process of escaping); pale skin with freckles not quite concealed by light makeup; and blue eyes with a determined glint behind them that said they'd see tragedies no nineteen-year-old should.

_*Like Dick or I could __ever__ pass ourselves off as 'normal'.*_

Still, there were _some_ typical elements to the evening. Like nerves, for instance, The redhead felt her heart hammering as her first date with the dark-haired detective neared. Actually, it wasn't just nerves, it was uncertainty mixed with a hefty dose of self-doubt. In the past few weeks, and even before—before her brother died—the two young heroes had grown close. They'd even gotten to the point that Nightwing had revealed his identity and asked her out as Dick Grayson, but Nicole still didn't know if they were an official couple or not.

_*I mean, I guess a date means we're more than just friends, but, if I'm honest, do I really believe that this can last? As a civilian or a hero, Dick could have pretty much any girl he wants. As Ember, I'm a rookie sidekick with a questionable past and family. As Nicole Zilareko, I'm a former foster child who ran away for a year and a half. Marji may have taken me in and helped me, but I've aged out of the system. By all technicalities, I'm a charity case!*_

Before she could continue her fretting, the door to her bedroom opened and Marji came in, smiling. In her hands was a chunky, black-and-red necklace. "Here, I thought this would go well with your dress." With that, the dark-haired young woman came up behind her protégé and clasped the jewelry. Still smiling at Nicole in the mirror, Marji put her hands on the teen's shoulders. "Dick's a lucky young man; I hope you both know that."

Impulsively, Ember whirled around and embraced her mentor—something she hadn't done in years. "Hey, don't you get emotional now," Silver whispered kindly, "or you'll get me started and ruin your mascara. Now come on downstairs, I'm sure he'll be here any minute now."

* * *

Marji's prediction proved accurate. Within moments of coming downstairs, Nicole hears the doorbell ring. The flame-wielder froze. Shaking her head in amusement, Silver crossed to open the door. She had to smile at the sight that greeted her—a nervous young man doing his very best to feign confidence. In the field, Ember and Nightwing were two of the most confident members of the Team, cracking jokes and taunts though nearly every battle.

_*But put them in a 'normal' situation, and they're just as scared as anybody else would be.*_

There was something almost reassuring in the observation, and Marji stepped aside with a smile, allowing her protégé's date to enter. She led him to the living room where Nicole waited, and prepared to vanish. But before making herself scarce, Silver let her smile slip for a second, revealing an expression that was pure 'mama bear'. Then she vacated the room, feeling Dick had been appropriately terrified.

* * *

The nervous young man decided to start with a sentence that was generally safe (and, in his opinion, _always_ true of Nikki): "You look nice."

"So do you," she replied, feeling the blush spreading across her face. He _did_, in his dress pants, white button-up shirt, red tie (they hadn't purposefully coordinated, but as red was her favorite color, it'd been a safe bet), and black blazer; but then, in her mind, he always did.

"Th-thanks." Dick mentally kicked himself for stuttering and tried to calm down. This was _Nikki_ for crying out loud! _*But then, it __is__ our first date, and we got off to a bad start when we first met.*_ "So, uh, are you ready to go to dinner?"

Nicole nodded, snatching up a small black clutch purse, but not before Dick noticed her hands were shaking. Somehow, realizing that she was as uncertain as he was helped to calm him, and a bit of his normal confidence returned. The two teenagers exited the house, and Dick held both the front and car door for his date (silently thanking Alfred for having constantly drilled 'proper behavior' into his head as she smiled at him).

As they were in Nikki's town, where Dick Grayson was slightly less recognizable, he'd taken one of his not-so-flashy (though still nice) cars. It was the same one he used when spending time with Tim, and Dick realized that the younger Robin had left a duffle bag of his gear in the back. Fortunately, Nicole didn't seem to mind (or else didn't notice) and they soon arrived at the intended restaurant.

When planning the evening, Dick had kept his plans a surprise, and when she recognized the restaurant, Nikki spared a moment to give her date a _look_. She'd asked that they not go anywhere too expensive or ostentatious.

_*Though, given her background as Bruce Wayne's ward, I guess this qualifies.*_

And at least she wasn't under-dressed (though it was close). The host showed them to the table and left them with glasses of water and their menus.

As the evening wound on, the two grew more comfortable, remembering halfway through the salad course that: Oh _yeah_—they _knew_ the person across from them! By the time their entrees arrived, they were teasing each other, laughing, and talking as they would over a quick snack in one of the galleys—though strictly on civilian topics, of course. It'd turned into a pleasant evening.

So, of course, that's when things went wrong.

Shouts erupted from the host's station, followed seconds later by the ominous sound of gunfire. Like every other diner, Dick and Nicole hit the ground, though, unlike everyone else, they were tensed for combat, and Nicole highly doubted anyone else had to snuff flames that'd flared up around their fists.

Two masked and black-clad figures entered the dining area, holding the terrified host at gunpoint. "Nobody move, nobody call the cops, and everyone hand over your valuables."

_*Regular crooks? Just our luck.*_ One look at Dick, and Nicole knew the plan: they'd play along and maintain their civilian identities, for now. _*I don't like this plan.*_

One of the attackers stayed in the dining room to see that their orders were carried out while his partner dragged the hostage with him as he stalked towards the kitchen. Nikki held her tongue as she took off the necklace Marji had given her and placed it and her earrings in her small black clutch before handing the purse over. She tried her best to look scared, instead of glaring daggers at the robber.

As the final few trinkets were collected in the dining room, shouts erupted from the kitchen. "The head chef is reputed to be a tyrant—and skilled with his knives," Dick murmured under his breath. Then two shots rang out, followed by muffled screams, and the young detective paled, clenching his jaw. "That bastard just killed someone—maybe two—"

Nicole thought her date was about to blow his cover (and she would've helped) when the first criminal returned, minus his hostage and with blood spattered on his mask. "Grab the sack, we're going," he barked at his partner before whirling on Dick and Nicole, gun raised. "Hey, you: you drive your date here or did you make her take a cab?"

Dick's mind raced, calculating. The man was too far away for him to take down before he fired at Nikki, and he obviously had no qualms about killing. Inserting a small stammer into his voice to maintain his pretense, he replied, "I d-drove."

Lunging quickly, the masked man grabbed Nicole's arm, hauling her upright, the gun pressed to her temple. Dick tensed, but there was nothing he could do. Nikki met his eyes, silently urging him to remain calm.

The moment was interrupted by the lead crook's shout. "Grab the loot!" he barked again at his partner, before turning his attention back to Dick. "You're driving, pretty boy. Grab your keys."

Grayson kept fuming silently, but he reached for the keys that the second robber had let him (and the other diners) keep.

* * *

The four made their way to the car, the crook with the loot claiming the passenger's seat, his 'boss' forcing Nicole into the backseat with him. The robber with the gun frowned at the duffle at Nicole's feet. "What's in the bag?" he barked at Dick.

Nicole saw Dick's eyes in the mirror meet hers for the briefest moment before he answered. "J-just some of my brother's stuff. H-his extracurricular—a-arts." _*Translation: Tim's weapons. Not his Robin weapons, just his practice __martial __arts__ gear.*_ She stored the information, watching for the opportunity to capitalize on the cache at her feet.

_*I think he's starting to overdo the stammer, though. His character is becoming a caricature.* _

"D-did you kill someone, George?" the crook with the loot asked. At the answering affirmative grunt, the terrified voice continued, "What'd you have to do that for?"

"It was that or become shish-kabob," George growled. "Plus, I warned them: anyone tries anything, and I kill them and the hostage. Once thy both went down, no one else made trouble."

"But you said you wouldn't hurt anyone, George: 'just a simple robbery'!"

"Shut up, Mike! Hey, pretty boy, head for the freeway, and go until you take exit 143. And don't you try to attract attention, or your little ginger here is gonna make it a three-kill night for me."

Nicole saw Dick's knuckles go white on the steering wheel, even as Mike whimpered, "Oh, George—they're just kids; don't kill 'em. Anyways, I don't want to go to jail for any murders. You wouldn't kill em, really?"

George didn't answer, but both hostages knew their odds: if they didn't act soon, they wouldn't survive the next few hours. _*Or we wouldn't—if we weren't superheroes,*_ Nicole amended, meeting Dick's gaze in the mirror and nodding nearly imperceptibly.

A heartbeat later, Nicole ducked under the barrel of the gun as her date jammed on the brakes. The unprepared criminals lurched forward, and the nineteen-year-old's surged into action before their would-be kidnappers could recover.

Reaching up with her left hand, the redhead seized the gun and twisted it from the startled robber's grasp before he could fire, restraining her flames and relying on her combat training. Her right hand, meanwhile, thrust into Tim's duffle, seizing on –_*Is that an escrima stick? Hm, I guess Tim's been practicing with Dick's weapons to stretch himself or something.*_—and swinging at the brutish figure beside her. She caught him first in the throat, then in the temple before he could recover his breath, knocking the killer out cold.

Dick, at the same moment, took a simpler tactic. Mike had slammed face-first into the dashboard when the car screeched to a halt, and as he sat up, dazed, Dick shot out his right hand and shoved the criminal into the dash again. The second blow proved too much for Mike, who remained slumped and semiconscious.

Two pairs of blue eyes met in the rear view mirror, and the young heroes grinned at each other, chorusing "switch!" in unison. With that, they piled out their doors, Dick opening the rear driver's door and pulling the unconscious form of George to the ground. Nikki pulled Mike out, stepping aside and letting the dazed robber land head-first on the deserted road. Moving quickly and nearly identically, the two nine-teen-year-old's bound the unconscious criminals.

Dick turned to Nicole with a smirk. "You just had to knock him out—didn't you? You couldn't leave some for me? You know I wanted to hit him."

* * *

Nicole shivered in the wind as she waited outside the Police Station. She'd answered their questions, and was now waiting for Marji to pick her up. Suddenly, someone dropped a blazer around her shoulders, and she turned to face Dick.

For once the detective looked sheepish, uncertain. "Nikki, I'm sorry. I wanted tonight—our first date—to be...well, perfect."

Taking courage, the redhead leaned into her date's chest and was rewarded when he put his arms around her. "It's not your fault—not like you could've known."

"Still, not an auspicious start to a relationship." As Nicole stiffened in surprise, he hastily added, "Th-that is, if _you_ want to—I-I didn't mean to assume—but I'd love—"

"Dick, of _course_ I do, I wouldn't have said 'yes' to a date if I didn't. I...I just wasn't sure you wanted to be with a-a charity case."

Grayson turned Nikki until her light blue eyes met his dark blue ones. "_Don't_ call yourself that—don't even _think_ about yourself like that. Whenever you are tempted to, remember this—" as he talked, he slipped the necklace Marji had given her out of his pocket (where he'd put it when he slipped it from the sack of loot) "—you are loved." As he fastened it on her neck, he kissed her on the lips for the first time. As they parted, Nikki saw Silver drive up. Giving Dick back his blazer, she reluctantly made her way to the car, reflecting on their 'normal' date.

_*Eh, normal is overrated.*_

**So, yeah. I realized that my long story ended with a relationship that wasn't well-defined at all, so this was my attempt to rectify that...in my own way. As always, if you liked it, or saw anything you think I can fix/improve for next time, don't hesitate to leave a review to let me know!**


	2. Don't You EVER (part 1)

**Hey, ModernDayBard here! Until there's enough interest/inspiration for a full sequel to if 'I'm a Hero Why Don't I Feel Super?' I figured I'd post a series of one shots with Nightwing and Nicole. There will be no regular updates, as I just jot these down as they come to me.  
****Of course: I don't own the song I quote, YJ, or its associated characters—just my oc's.**

When Ember heard that her boyfriend needed the three oldest members of her squad—Alpha—to help him with an undercover investigation, she was excited. Then she got the mission details.

"A karaoke bar?" Nicole asked in a tone of disbelief as M'Gann piloted the Bioship toward their destination. "Someone's running part of an organized crime ring out of a _karaoke bar_?"

Nightwing met his girlfriend's surprised blue eyes, grinning a little. "I found it a little hard to believe myself, but it's true." He paused, shaking his head at the absurdity of the thought. "And they're not just running it—they're _recruiting_."

Superboy shifted in his seat. "So, if you know for certain who you're after and where they are—why do you need us?"

"Because no one goes to karaoke bar alone," Nicole answered as the plan dawned on her, now meeting and matching the detective's grin. "A double date is a lot less conspicuous. We're his cover until he can…"

"….Until I can tail my target," Nightwing finished. "That's why we're in civilian clothes, _and_ why we'll be parking the Bioship farther away and walking a few blocks. Sorry, guys, but I need the cover. If it was a regular bar..."

Nicole snorted. "If it was a regular bar, you'd be under age and have to pass the investigation off to someone else. Don't try to pretend you're not pleased." Her all-too-accurate assessment at least earned a smile from her boyfriend as silence fell once more.

"We're almost there," M'Gann reported.

"Then Miss M: Link us up!"

_*Link established.*_

* * *

Nightwing—using the name Ryan Giles, to Nicole's amusement (Giles being the name of a character in an Agatha Christie mystery play the two had discussed once a few weeks before)—took the lead when they arrived, commandeering a couch/table area for the group, as well as list of the song options. After a bit, he went to order his and Nicole's drinks, and Connor glanced around, commenting silently: _*I think people are staring.*_

_*We're not drawing __too__ much attention,* _M'Gann added, sounding perplexed, _*but a bit more than anyone else here. Why?*_

Nicole glanced in disbelief at the older couple sitting across form her, asking incredulously: _*Seriously?*_ She didn't want to do this—she _really_ didn't want to—but Nightwing needed them to maintain his cover, and she knew that organized crime could get deadly, fast. Reluctantly, she glanced at the list in front of her, seized on a familiar title, then stood and crossed to the emcee before she could lose her nerve entirely.

_*What are you doing, Nikki?*_ Nightwing asked his girlfriend as he carried their (nonalcoholic) drinks back to the table.

_*Covering for you, so get investigating! I don't want to do this more than I have to!*_

She could still feel the others' surprise and confusion (courtesy of the psychic link), but did her best to tune them out as she gave the man the number of the song she planned to sing. With a few deep breaths, and after taking a moment to straighten her bright red tunic top, Nicole stepped up to the small stage. The song she'd requested queued up, but she did her best to rely on memory rather than on the lyrics screen behind her.

"_**I won't give up on us, even when the skies get rough. I'm giving you all my love…I'm still looking up—I'm still looking up."**_

The young hero had picked the song merely because she knew she knew it (and, if she was honest, it had always made her think of her brother), but somewhere around the second chorus, she remembered that Dick was in the audience.

Ember almost lost her nerve then and there out of sheer embarrassment, but rallied, realizing that she _did_ mean the words she was singing. She even managed to work up the courage to look over to where the detective had been sitting.

He wasn't there.

_*Of course.*_

* * *

Nightwing had, as it turned out, begun stalking his target, asking via the psychic link for the others to maintain their cover. M'Gann and Nicole therefore (reluctantly) traded off singing every fifteen minutes to half-hour. Connor flat-out refused to take the stage.

Roughly two hours after they first arrived, one young man came over from the bar area and shoved his way into Dick's vacated seat, trying to grin in what he assumed was a charming manner at Nicole, who was doing her best not to gag.

"Looks like your boyfriend flaked on you, sweetheart. You should dump him for a man who'll stick around," the stranger sleazed, and somewhere in the back of her mind, Nicole noticed no smell of alcohol on his breath—this guy was a creep, no intoxication required.

Connor stood, needing no psychic prompting. He towered over the new arrival, whose skinny frame now looked even _less_ intimidating. "Back off, buddy. No one moves in on my brother's girl." (They'd gone with the cover story of two brothers and a double-date.)

"Well, _buddy_, maybe your 'brother's girl' has a mind of her own. What kind of boyfriend leaves while his girl sings a love song, and doesn't come back, anyway?"

Before Superboy could reply, Nicole spoke up, her blue eyes fixed on something on the newcomer's ball cap. "Where did you get that pin?" it was one she knew well—Dick's debate club pin from Gotham Academy, which he often wore with his 'civilian clothes' as a little private joke of theirs (claiming he'd yet to win an argument with her).

The man froze, then his eyes narrowed as he met Nicole's guarded gaze. "From a friend I met tonight—said it suited me," he spat at last as he fled the table.

_*Nightwing, I think our cover's been blown. Nightwing?*_ Ember's worry began to grow. _*M'Gann, can you sense Nightwing at all?*_

_*No. …No, wait! He's unconscious, but alive—and nearby!*_

"Time to go," Nicole said aloud, standing. "Ryan'll catch up." Then she added via the psychic link: _*Something tells me that we need to get clear of this area before any civilians get hurt.*_

* * *

The others had agreed, so they'd slipped out of the karaoke bar and into the night. Sure enough, they were jumped by five men as soon as they were out of the view of the public.

It wasn't a fair fight.

Thanks to Black Canary, even without using their powers (which they feared could possibly put Nightwing in even more danger if the mob boss he was tracking learned he had a bunch of superheroes on his trail), they could easily take out the low-level mob goons. They left the last one conscious, Superboy pinning him down with one hand. It was the man from the bar, the GA debate pin shining treacherously in the dim light.

"Ryan Giles," Connor pat. "Where is he?"

The captive sneered silently, completely focused on the obvious attacker and entirely oblivious to the glowing green eyes just out of sight. Yes, Miss M had gotten much better at subtlety.

Finally, still in disguise and character, the Martian stepped forward, saying casually, "He's not going to tell us." As soon as Superboy had knocked the creep out, M'Gann changed her tune. "He was there when they ambushed Nightwing. I got a pretty good idea of where they're keeping him from the impressions I got. This way!"

The two raced after her, Ember feeling her heart clench. _*'Where they're keeping him…'*_ It felt like such an obvious trap, but what could they do? Nightwing was hurt and being held by a dangerous crime boss. Trap or no, they had to try and save him.

* * *

Miss Martian used her telekinesis to unlock an open what looked like a storm cellar door attached to a seemingly abandoned warehouse several blocks from the karaoke bar. "Are you sure—" Connor began.

"Nightwing's the only one inside," M'Gann reported, and Nicole suddenly realized how pale her Martian friend was. "H-He's in bad shape…I-I _think_ he might be—"

Ember didn't wait for that particular thought to be finished. She raced down the stairs to find herself in a small, dingy subterranean room. Dick lay in the center of the room, his civilian clothes torn and smudged with dirt and blood. He wasn't bound or restrained in any way, and his injuries, while numerous, weren't serious. In fact, there didn't seem to be any reason for him to be unconscious, until Nicole heard him choking. He was on his back, jerking like he was having a seizure, and choking and spluttering like he was drowning.

Nicole ran over to her boyfriend, instinctively trying to sit him up. Her impulse proved correct as Nightwing went from seizing and choking to gasping and retching, but his breathing was at least marginally improved as Connor helped the redhead keep the dark-haired detective upright.

The flame-wielder had one arm behind Dick's back, the other hand on his upper arm, her brow furrowed in concern. She couldn't even tell if he was conscious or not. The nineteen-year-old thought she heard something and leaned forward to realize that her boyfriend was muttering. Nightwing, however, was still incoherent, and between that and the coughing and retching, whatever he was trying to say was lost.

"We need to get him to the Bioship," Superboy insisted. "This looks like some kind of drug OD. If they've injected him with something, we'll need to clear his system."

Miss Martian interrupted telepathically. _*Then we had better get rid of our company—and quick!*_

Still supporting her boyfriend, Nicole turned to see that M'Gann had already camouflaged herself. As the redhead watched, a half-dozen men in dark suits tramped down the stairs after a hulking, brutish figure wearing an expensive-looking suit. The man focused on the three visible teenagers, and Ember knew she had to keep it that way. In a worried tone that was only half-fake, she demanded, "What did you do to Ryan?"

"Your little boyfriend here was poking his nose into matters that don't concern him." The answer came with an open-palmed shrug and a chilling half-smile. "I _hate_ when things get messy, but what could I do? Company policy, you see. Now, do you two mind telling me what police commissioner in his right mind would send four green rookies like you after the likes of me? I'm insulted."

"Maybe our boss _isn't_ in his right mind," Superboy retorted, still kneeling beside Nightwing. Then, via the psychic link: _*Looks like our cover's only __half__-blown. Should we blow the rest?*_

"And, really, only one of us can be honestly called green," Nicole continued. _*Seven high-level and likely armed mob members versus the three of us? I like the odds. M'Gann, do you want to open the floor?*_

_*It would be my genuine pleasure,*_ the Martian replied.

Just as the mob boss frowned and asked, "And just where is your other cute little friend?" two of his men went down, struck from behind with a fire extinguisher held in M'Gann's telekinetic grip. The remaining five glanced all around, trying unsuccessfully to locate the source of the attack.

"I'd say she's somewhere behind you—even I can't say exactly where," Nicole snapped, standing up and letting Superboy quickly drag Nightwing to the side of the room where he could lean against the wall to stay both upright and (hopefully) away from most of the fighting. In order to keep attention away from the two boys, Ember wreathed her hands in fire. "Miss M, close the door. We don't want any inconvenient exits."

The Martian, who'd already taken out another goon, shifted to a third location before slamming the cellar door shut. Now the only light source in the room was Ember's fires, and the remaining four men were on edge.

The boss pulled a gun and aimed at the red-haired girl in front of him, but before he could fire, Connor grabbed the barrel and wrenched it from the man's grasp before driving his fist into the sneering face. With the man now down and out, Superboy turned to join the battle, only to find that Nicole and M'Gann had already taken care of the other three men between them.

Grumbling a little about missed opportunities, the Kryptonian crossed to help move the still half-conscious detective.

* * *

Nightwing awoke on the Bioship with a start, reaching instinctively for the IV in his arm until Nicole reached out a hand to stop him. "Not until we know your system's completely clean."

"The mission—" the dark-haired detective began in a hoarse voice.

"—_succeeded_," Miss M insisted. "We apprehended your target when we were looking for you and he's now in the hands of the proper authorities."

Dick still felt slightly confused, and more than a little groggy. "Then why are we here on the Bioship and not back at the Hall?"

The two girls suddenly looked embarrassed, so it was Connor who answered in his usual, blunt style. "Because we had what we needed to flush your system here on board, and none of us particularly wanted to be the ones to explain to Batman why and how you almost OD'd on—" Superboy broke off to check one of the Bioship's medical readouts before finishing. "—dialudid. Especially since none of us were actually there to see what happened."

Dick pictured his mentor's gruff persona, then remembered his protective side and understood his friends' reluctance to report the not-so successful part of the evening to Batman. Then he realized the unspoken implication that they'd left that unpleasant task to him, and his dark blue eyes narrowed behind his dark glasses. "Thanks, guys," he remarked dryly, earning small smiles from the others.

The Martian and the Kryptonian then unobtrusively drifted out of earshot (which, for Connor, involved a pair of headphones), leaving Nightwing alone with his girlfriend. One look at the half-worried, half-furious expression on Nicole's face, and the detective knew that the evening wouldn't make the 'best date ever' list any time soon.

He wasn't sure what to say, but Ember took care of that for him. "The cops told us the guy we brought in will probably help bring down at least three of _his_ bosses. Capturing eleven of his goons was an added bonus."

"Why do you think he was my target?" As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he knew they were the wrong ones.

"And you didn't think it good or necessary to tell us that you'd been clued into investigating the karaoke bar by a mysterious, unwarranted increase in the number of OD deaths in a ten block radius?"

So, the cops had given them the case details. Oh, well—no choice but honesty, now. "Nikki, I didn't tell you because I didn't want you to worry."

His girlfriend crossed her arms and glared at him in that way he'd always thought cute. "Well, fantastic job at that, genius," she snapped, her voice dripping with sarcasm. He knew her well enough to know that tone of voice indicated a defense mechanism, and he could see behind her anger. Forget worry—he'd genuinely scared her.

"Nikki, I'm sorry."

It was like his apology drained the anger and defiance out of her, and the redhead let herself sink down until she was sitting on the edge of the bed. Dick reached out to put his hand on her arm, but instead, Nicole pressed something small and metal into his palm. He opened his hand to see it was his Gotham Academy debate pin.

He looked up to see a little bit of the spark he loved so much back in Nicole's bright blue eyes. That was all the warning he got before she punched him in the shoulder.

"Ow!" he yelped, more surprised than actually hurt. "What—?"

He faltered as Ember continued to glare at him. Finally, she spoke. "Dick Grayson, don't you _ever_ do that to me again!"

"Yes, ma'am," he answered meekly.

Maybe Wally hadn't been the only one to find his own 'spitfire'.

**So, yeah. There were sort of two inspirations behind this one. First, I got the idea to parody the **_**'characters singing a song that completely sums up exactly what they want to tell their bf/gf, who is conveniently in hearing range'**_** cliché, hence the karaoke scene. When I was trying to decide where to go from there, I remembered the story I will be posting momentarily, (which I actually wrote first), realizing that I could make this story work as a set-up or prequel to that one, and the second half just sort of wrote itself. Anyhow, new chapter coming in a few moments!**


	3. Don't You EVER (part 2)

**Hey, ModernDayBard here! Until there's enough interest/inspiration for a full sequel to if 'I'm a Hero Why Don't I Feel Super?' I figured I'd post a series of one shots with Nightwing and Nicole. There will be no regular updates, as I just jot these down as they come to me.  
****Of course: I don't own YJ, or its associated characters—just my oc's.**

_*If misery loves company, it must be related to villainy,*_ Nicole Zilareko mused bitterly as a recently recovered Nightwing reported his findings to the senior members of the Team. He'd already told her the bad news in private the day before, for which she was grateful. Now that she'd had a few hours to process that her brother's former right-hand, Black Fang, had taken over the Children of Nightmare (and made several unholy alliances with other known villains), she could focus on pretending not to notice the other's reactions.

She knew her friends meant well, but since Karl's death, they'd walked on eggshells whenever the Children of Nightmare were discussed. Nicole just wished they'd get over (or accept that _she'd_ mostly gotten over) the fact that her deceased brother had been the enemy, given that there was so much they still didn't know about the meta-powered villains. Some of Karl's most dangerous lackeys were still at large, and at times it felt like Ember and Nightwing were the only ones searching for clues.

As bad as the news was, there was at least _one_ silver lining: the new alliances guaranteed that the previously hard-to-trace group was no longer operating at a level under the Justice League's normal radar.

_*I've got her now,*_ Nicole thought with determination, picturing the face of her brother's murderer, ignoring the sympathetic, understanding looks that Aqualad and Artemis were casting in her direction.

* * *

Sure enough, less than a week later, Nightwing and Nicole found themselves on the trail of a duo from their worst nightmares—Deathstroke and Black Fang.

_*In hindsight,*_ Ember mused as the two young heroes squared off against the two villains, _*maybe we should've called for backup.* _At the time they had decided not to, the redhead had been desperate to be the one who brought Black Fang down, but now she was realizing the danger that the call had put her and Nightwing in.

Still, there was no time for regret as she fought for her life and revenge. The sword of shadows clashed against the blazing blade as the two girls flew at each other, seeking an opening or advantage. A few feet away, Nightwing was taking on the deadly mercenary, but Ember couldn't let worry distract her—she knew all too well that Black Fang would capitalize on any momentary lapse.

Nicole parried a strike, using her own blade to push away the attacking sword. As she brought the sword around in her own attack, however, Black Fang was ready for her. The two girls ended up with their weapons locked together, leaning forward until they were almost face-to-face.

As unshakable as ever, the vampiric villain bared her single fang in a malicious grin. "You fight like your brother," she hissed in a voice like poison.

It was a blatantly obvious attempt to unsettle her, but Ember couldn't suppress the images that flew through her mind in that moment: Karl's final moments as Black Fang drove her dark sword into his back, his lifeless corpse on the ground, already gone before she ever got the chance to say goodbye, and the expression of pain that his face had frozen in in his final moments.

It was all the opening the older girl needed.

One moment, her left hand was empty, the next, she held a dagger of pure darkness—her sword in miniature. With a smirk of triumph, Black Fang plunged the treacherous weapon into Nicole's abdomen.

Ember's eyes flew open in pain and shock, and in the few precious moments before she could process what had happened, it actually crossed her mind that she should've expected something like this.

_*The villain usually does pull the dagger out of the boot at the worst possible moment. Then again, the hero usually doesn't die.*_

At that point, her knees buckled and gravity did its work. She didn't really notice, however. The only sensation she was aware of was a paradoxical blend of freezing cold and blazing pain radiating out from the wound in her gut.

Just as she began to lose her grasp on reality, she heard Nightwing call out her name.

"_**EMBER!"**_

* * *

Nightwing had seen the murderous moment from the corner of his eye as he battled Deathstroke. He turned, unable to stop himself from screaming his girlfriend's name, just in time to see her fall. He paid for his distraction, however, as Deathstroke's sword opened a ragged gash across his back. He stumbled forward a few steps, pain, grief, and rage tinting his vision red.

Almost before he'd stopped moving, he threw one of his escrima sticks at Black Fang, who'd taken a moment to gloat over Ember's fallen form. The flying weapon caught the dark-haired murderer on the temple as she turned, and the vampiric mercenary crumpled.

The detective turned quickly, almost before Black Fang hit the ground, and just as Deathstroke had brought his sword around from the strike that injured Nightwing. Beneath his mask, the mercenary's remaining eye narrowed in a smirk of triumph upon realizing his opponent was wounded and down a weapon.

His moment of arrogance was both premature and short-lived, as Nightwing was still fueled by his rage. The dark-haired detective ducked under another sword strike, getting inside Deathstroke's guard, grabbing the mercenary's sword hand in his now-free one before bringing his remaining escrima stick down on Deathstroke's wrist, forcing him to drop his sword. Once his opponent was disarmed, Nightwing struck hard and fast, knocking off the orange-and-black mask and rendering his adversary unconscious in moments.

With both foes down and neither moving, Dick stumbled over to Nicole, ignoring the pain radiating from the wound on his back. He knelt beside Ember, putting an arm under her shoulder, lifting her slightly. After one heart-stopping moment, he realized that she was still breathing, but he couldn't overlook the gaping wound in her abdomen, and the blood that now stained the front of her red, orange, and yellow uniform.

Each breath sounded painful—ragged and uneven, and while her eyes were open, she didn't seem to be able to focus, her blue eyes sliding over his face without a single flicker of recognition. His grip on her shoulders tightened slightly as he was unable to shake the feeling this was some kind of karmic payback for worrying Ember so much on the karaoke mission, or what he put the Team through when he faked Artemis's death.

Once more, he was kneeling over the bloody form of a fallen Teammate, though this time, the blood was really hers and there was no reassuring voice in the back of his head saying that this was the illusion they crafted carefully and that she was going to be fine.

"Please," he whispered before he called for the backup they'd opted against at the start of the mission, praying it would be in time. "Just hold on, Nikki."

* * *

Nicole didn't really feel any pain anymore, and while she'd normally recognize that as a bad sign, she couldn't even force herself to think rationally about the situation. Her brain simply would _not_ cooperate. Her mind felt foggy and confused, not quite able to understand what it was she was seeing; it was like the world had become two super-imposed images.

On the one hand, she could still see the buildings of the city around them, even a bit of the sky directly overhead. She could feel Nightwing's arm under her shoulder, holding her up. The flame-wielder was dimly aware of her boyfriend's face just in her line of sight, but was unable to focus on it, as much as she wanted to. She was also aware of him speaking, but could not make out the words, which sounded as if they came from several feet away under water.

As hard as she tried, she could not bring any of the sights, sensations, or sounds to further clarity. The nineteen-year-old was frustrated, even dismayed, then to her fear, she realized that her own emotions were as dim, indistinct, and removed as the world around her.

On the other hand, her eyes were assaulted by swirling colors, dark patches, and odd patterns that seemed sprung form a mad painter's canvas. Jangling, discordant, off-kilter sounds that could not be deemed music by any reasonable mind seem to hang in the very air around her. In this reality, she seemed to be floating, away from her body and every true sensation. She wanted to fight it, to stay with Dick and her friends, with Silver.

But at last, she could fight the pull no more.

* * *

"I'm keeping pressure on the wound as best I can, and Deathstroke and Black Fang are restrained and still unconscious. Just get a med team here _STAT!"_ It wasn't fair, Dick knew, to yell at Mal (the unfortunate member of the Team who'd happened to be on coms that day), but worry for the girl in his arms smothered small courtesies.

He looked down at his unconscious girlfriend, throat constricting at what he saw. Nicole's breaths were growing more and more ragged and—worse—further and further apart. He wasn't used to seeing her this helpless, wasn't used to being unable to help her.

_*If she dies—*_ No—NO!—he couldn't—_wouldn't_—think like that. She was going to be okay—she _had_ to be..

"_Nightwing? Nightwing, can you hear me? I just contacted the Watchtower, there's a MedEvac team on their way to your location. Just stay calm and try to keep her stable."_ Nightwing didn't reply, but it was clear by Mal's tone that Guardian held no grudges about the detective's earlier snapping. _"Hey, Wingster, you hear me? We've got a team on their way; we're not gonna lose her. Everything's going to be okay."_

Dick knew his friend was trying to be encouraging, and he mumbled something in response, but as he continue to hold Nicole, ignoring the fiery pain from his back, he wondered if the help would arrive in time.

* * *

Naturally, Bruce was livid that his first partner had been so foolish as to engage two dangerous criminals with only his fire-powered girlfriend for backup, but when he arrived on the Watchtower (in full Batman getup) and stormed into the infirmary, the distressed look on the young man's face told him the day's events had been punishment enough.

Dick paid little to no attention to the Med Team seeing to his injuries, barely noticing the pain as they did their pest to stitch up the ragged gash Deathstroke's sword had cut across his back. Briefly he met his mentor's eyes when Batman entered the room, but only for a moment.

Bruce frowned, until he followed the young man's gaze and realized what Nightwing was watching. Across the hall, through the half-open door, was the closed door that blocked sight of the team tending to Ember. Occasionally a doctor or nurse would enter or exit, and one or two glanced at the watching detective with expressions that were hard to read. Nobody said anything, and there hadn't been any news on the redhead's condition since she'd first been taken into surgery. The only news Dick had was what he could read in the faces of the infirmary personnel.

From what he could see, it was far from good.

* * *

Hours later, Bruce and Dick joined the others in the waiting room after the medics had cleared him. He wanted to be pacing, but seeing as his back erupted in fiery pain every time he tried to move, he was confined to a chair.

He met no one's gaze, and kept his eyes fixed on the door that the doctor was likely to come through. He just wanted answers—even if he was afraid of them. Also, it was a way to avoid Bruce's concerned gaze and Marji's half-accusatory one.

Even if it had been Ember's choice to not call for backup, Nightwing had claimed responsibility for the debacle that the afternoon had become. _*I feel responsible anyway, and she's been through enough.*_

Just as the thought crossed his mind, a somber looking doctor entered the room. As one, everyone looked up, bracing themselves for his news.

* * *

At last, Dick found himself alone in Nicole's room, gazing silent at the still, pale form that'd taken the place of his Teammate and girlfriend.

Kindly, the others had given him this moment alone, even Silver, who had just as much—if not more—right to be in that room at that moment.

Painfully, slowly, Ember opened her blue eyes taking in her strange surroundings. Trying to focus on his current relief instead of his previous worry, Dick tried for a smile and a joke. Harking back to her own words from weeks before, he all but whispered: "Nicole Zilareko, don't you _ever_ do that to me again!"

**So, yeah. This was the promised follow-up to the last chapter. I figured life could be scary/dangerous when you and your significant other are superheroes, hence the more intense stories. Lighter fluff to come to come eventually, I promise! Anyhow, if you saw anything you particularly liked, or something you saw that you think I can fix/improve next time, don't hesitate to leave a review to let me know!**


	4. Just This Once

**Hey, ModernDayBard here! Until there's enough interest/inspiration for a full sequel to if 'I'm a Hero Why Don't I Feel Super?' I figured I'd post a series of one shots with Nightwing and Nicole. There will be no regular updates, as I just jot these down as they come to me.  
****Of course: I don't own YJ, or its associated characters—just my oc's.**

It had been a normal, even quiet day at work, and for once, Nicole Zilareko was glad for the unremarkable hours in an every-day shift, especially after the hectic weekend she'd had at her _other_ job. But now the weekend was behind her and a day relaxing in its tedium stretched before her...or at least, it did, until her boyfriend walked in.

As much as she liked seeing Dick, having him walk in unannounced into the bookstore felt like an ominous portend of doom—or at least of another days-long mission that would deprive her of so much sleep that the coffee maker would become the most important appliance in the whole house.

But the detective's air was causal, even light-hearted as he made his way to the customer service desk she was standing at, with five minutes left on her shift. "Marji told me the news," he said by way of greeting, smiling easily, "your first publication."

Nicole blushed, all worries about a mission forgotten in an awkward rush. "Well, I'd hardly call a guest review in a local paper the undeniable beginning of an illustrious review as a critic—honestly, I wish she'd stop making such a big deal out of it."

"No chance of that," Dick answered with a sympathetic chuckle, "she's too proud. But if you feel up to celebrating, I figured a relaxing afternoon downtown could mark the occasion: however small you think it."

Normally, Nicole would not have hesitated. It was just that the last three times she and Dick had managed to actually line up their schedules enough for a date (that wasn't a mission) _some_thing had gone wrong, or _some_ mission had come up or _some_ criminal had gotten out and started terrorizing ordinary citizens. It was starting to feel like the universe wouldn't allow the two heroes a chance for ordinary quality time. Recognizing the budding superstition for what it was, Nikki returned the dark-haired detective's smile. "Sounds good to me. My shift's almost up, if you want to wait here or in the coffee shop."

Dick leaned forward, pecking her on the cheek quickly before strolling away. "I'll get us something to drink. See you in a few, Nikki."

* * *

Sure enough, as soon as she'd clocked out and walked over to the little coffee nook in one corner of the store, Dick was standing there waiting, two cups in hand. He handed one to her and the two walked out the door together, onto the mildly crowded street. Nicole took one sip and smiled—white-chocolate-lavender hot-chocolate. It was a new, experimental flavor, and was quickly becoming her new favorite. She'd never said so aloud, but there were advantages to dating a highly observant detective.

The early fall day wasn't yet cold by any means, but despite the bright sun, Nicole was glad for both her light sweater and warm drink as yet _another_ attempt at a 'normal' date began.

* * *

"_Is everyone in position?"_

"_East quadrant checking in: they've just left the bookstore. Looks like they're angling for Main Street."_

"_North quadrant's ready. Nothing to report so far."_

"_All quiet in the south, too. Hey—do we have anyone watching West?"_

"_You two are on double-duty, since you're the only team of two. I have to run coms and make sure things don't get out of hand. Think you can handle that?"_

"_Roger that!"_

* * *

"So—you couldn't choose between English and Communications, so you decided to double major?"

Nicole laughed at her boyfriend's teasing tone. "Something like that. The online classes are going well so far, but I _do_ get odd looks when people find out about what I'm studying."

Dick tried for an exaggerated expression of disbelief, and was rewarded as Nikki had to choke back a laugh or risk losing a mouthful of her hot chocolate. "Truly? Whatever could surprise them about such a thing?"

"Something about me choosing two of the majors that people either don't understand or don't expect you can find a job with."

Keeping with his light sarcasm, the detective shook his head. "What will people be surprised by next?"

"The fact that not all government majors want to go into politics, perhaps," Nikki answered, not missing a beat.

* * *

"_Anything to report yet?"_

"_There was a minor disturbance in the east, but I managed to get in under control before they noticed. And now Icicle Jr. is in custody...again."_

"_Nice work, Robin."_

* * *

As they continued to walk and chat about nothing in particular, a road sign caught Nikki's eyes, and she couldn't help muttering "1,000," under her breath.

"A thousand what?" Dick asked, hearing the tone to her voice that said she was remembering a joke or funny story she'd heard once.

In answer, Nicole indicated the sign: an orange rhombus that simply read 'bump'. "500 dollars to make the sign, another 500 to pay a crew to come and set it up, and it never occurred to anyone to take that 1,000 dollars and _fix the bump_?"

"At least it's not 'Slow Children Playing'," the dark-haired young man answered her with a chuckle.

The redhead still shook her head at that. "And take that sign for another example. What is it usually replaced with now? A picture of two kids on a see-saw. How does a see-saw interfere with driving? Are we supposed to expect them to be launching children into the road with some form of antiquated siege engine?" To her immense pride, that earned a true, full laugh from the detective.

* * *

"_All squads: report."_

"_East's all quiet now, nothing to report."_

"_South and West are clear, as well."_

"_North? Cassie?"_

"_Here! Sorry, there was an almost-incident with our least-favorite-lycanthrope, Moony, but it's under control, now. North's quiet, other than that."_

"_Nice work, Wondergirl."_

* * *

As the two nearly twenty-year-olds continued their discussion and walk, the conversation meandered into more serious topics.

"So, you know what _I_ want to do with my degree—however hard literary criticism may be to break into—but what about you, Dick?"

The detective gave a dry chuckle as his free hand found hers. "Well, Bruce and Fox want me to look into positions at WayneTech with the intent of moving into a leadership position, eventually."

"But?" Nicole asked, having heard the hesitation in her boyfriend's tone.

"But..." Dick began, brow furrowed in thought, "...I guess I'm not really sure, yet. The idea does have some appeal, but I've been giving some thought into reforming the Bludhaven police force—from the inside." He felt Nicole's hand tense in his own and gave her a questioning look.

At his expression, the redhead tried to relax, muttering quietly. "With all that we run up against with our other jobs, you'd think I wouldn't worry about _that_ kind of danger."

He could see her trying to keep the fear from her eyes, knowing full well that she was thinking of the scar across his back from Deathstroke's sword, or of finding him half-dead from a drug OD. Dick gave her hand a comforting squeeze, trying to get a smile out of her. "Hey, I'll be careful whatever I choose—that's what I do."

Nikki's deadpan expression clearly said she didn't buy that—and he knew full-well the record didn't support his statement. "Yeah, right," the flame-wielder muttered.

* * *

"_Looks like they're winding down now. All still quiet?"_

"_All quiet in the east—no signs of trouble."_

"_Same over here in the north."_

"_South is quiet, too, hermanos. We had an attempted break-in to a store on the commercial strip in the west but—"_

"_But that's all taken care of, now!"_

"_Oh, come on—already? I'm not even there, yet!"_

"_Sorry, Beetle. Too slow!"_

"_Okay, you two: settle down and get out of sight. KF—that means you."_

"_Roger that!"_

"_Si, hermana."_

* * *

To Nicole's eternal surprise, they made it back to the house she and Marji lived in without a single incident. The two hesitated near the door, empty and useless coffee cups still in hand.

"One year," Nicole said, breaking the silence at last.

To Dick's credit, he was not caught off-guard and actually understood what she was referring to. "Almost to the day. Tuesday will be the anniversary of our...unorthodox first date."

"I was actually counting to today from the day you asked me out, but that works, too," Nicole admitted. "Especially considering it was that night at the station you actually asked me to officially be your girlfriend. Tuesday, then."

"Are you working that night?"

Nicole paused for a moment, mentally running down her schedule. "No, actually—I've got the night off from both jobs. But please—nothing too fancy or ostentatious. Just something simple, the two of us."

"Simple, got it," Dick replied, leaning forward for a quick goodbye kiss. "See you at the Hall tomorrow, Nikki."

* * *

Dick knew he was cutting it close, so had to go directly from Nikki's house to the Hall of Justice for his squad's shift with barely any time to change into his Nightwing costume. He did make it, however, and as he entered one of the common rooms he was met with the sight of five of the younger Team members—Batgirl, Wondergirl, Robin, Blue Beetle, and Kid Flash—all lounging about, ostensibly as if they hadn't moved since he left earlier that afternoon.

The dark-haired detective gave a crooked smile to the red-haired girl. "Thanks for stepping in to help today. It was good to have a quiet date for once."

Barbara looked up to meet her 'big brother's' gaze, expression never moving from her neutral mask. "I have no idea what you mean," she deadpanned, sparing a moment to glance at her companions. "Do you guys?"

"No."

"Nope!"

"Para nada."

"Absolutely not!"

Dick's amused smirk didn't fade a bit as he passed through the room. "Of course not. Well, thanks anyway."

After he left, the five younger teens exchanged knowing, triumphant grins.

_Mission: Accomplished._

**So, yeah. This was my stab at lighter fluff that still fits in the superhero world. I couldn't help it—I just liked the idea of the kiddos deciding to step in and help the older heroes too much to make it completely free of Team stuff.  
****Anyway, if you saw anything you particularly liked, or something you saw that you think I can fix/improve next time, don't hesitate to leave a review to let me know!  
****Also, some of you may have noticed I post a one-shot in this series every time I finish a multi-chapter fic. Well, my knew major story starts next week and I can't decide if the following installment in 'In Days to Come' should be more mission-based drama, more light, harmless fluff, or something else. Have an opinion or something you want to see? Leave a review and let me know!**


	5. Candle Embers

**Hey, ModernDayBard here! Until there's enough interest/inspiration for a full sequel to if 'I'm a Hero Why Don't I Feel Super?' I figured I'd post a series of one shots with Nightwing and Nicole. There will be no regular updates, as I just jot these down as they come to me.  
****Of course: I don't own YJ, or its associated characters—just my oc's.  
****NOTE: the previous chapters were in chronological order, but this one backtracks, taking place after the 'Don't You EVER's but before 'Just This Once'.**

That morning, as Nicole came downstairs, already dressed for work at the bookstore, and got ready to head out, she was conscious of Marji's eyes on her. "You'll be at the lunch today—yes?" the older woman asked at last. "The others have been planning this for a bit now..."

"I know," Nicole answered, face neutral, "I'll be there. It'll be fun: better than last year...Honestly, Marji—I'm doing better. Oop! I have to go. Oh, and Dick said he'd be here around seven, so if I'm not quite ready when he gets here—"

"I'm on door duty. No problem. You _could_ start taking a little less time in the bathroom, if you're worried about keeping him waiting," Marji pointed out, a smile at last on her face—albeit, a teasing room.

Nicole grimaced in an exaggerated fashion, before grabbing her purse, to-go cup of coffee, and keys, dashing out the door. Today was a big day, indeed—she had a lot to get done.

* * *

By the time her boyfriend picked her up for her date, Nicole was already exhausted, but fighting it. It'd been a surprisingly good day—quiet shift at work, a 'girl's day lunch' with some women from the League and Team—and she was looking forward to an evening out with her boyfriend to cap it all off.

_Provided, that is, I can stay awake._

Dick seemed to pick up on her more subdued mood, asking quietly as they sat in their usual table at a favorite café of theirs, "Nikki, are you alright? And you don't have to say you are if you're not."

"It's nothing—I'm just a little tired. Honestly, today has been..."Nicole let her voice trial off as she searched for the right words. "...better than I could have expected, given last year," she said at last. Not a glowing endorsement, but an honest one, and Dick had noticed she was carrying herself more lightly than she would have if something was on her mind.

"I'm glad," he said honestly, smiling as he saw the waiter bringing dessert already—a single candle lighting one of them. He reached across the table and held the redhead's hand as he whispered, "Happy birthday, Nikki."

**So, yeah. Just a short little drabble, and lacking a bit in terms of inspiration. But, since I finished Patricia Williams, it was about time I posted another one here, and I realized that in the year I've had pass since these two became a couple, Ember would've had another birthday—and we all know how hard those are for her. I wanted to show how far she's come emotionally since 'If I'm a Hero...'  
****Anyway, if you saw anything you particularly liked, or something you saw that you think I can fix/improve next time, don't hesitate to leave a review to let me know!**


	6. When the Clock Strikes Twelve

**Hey, ModernDayBard here! Until there's enough interest/inspiration for a full sequel to if 'I'm a Hero Why Don't I Feel Super?' I figured I'd post a series of one shots with Nightwing and Nicole. There will be no regular updates, as I just jot these down as they come to me.  
****Of course: I don't own YJ, or its associated characters—just my oc's.**

* * *

It was a simple mission—round up the unlikely, unlucky duo of Moony and Ice Junior after their latest break-out—and didn't require a whole squad's attention. Nightwing and Ember had volunteered to take down the two hapless villains, but now the fire-wielder was seriously regretting that call.

For obvious reasons, she was the one facing off against Ice Junior while her boyfriend took on Moony, who was in full wolf-form, courtesy of the full moon climbing ever higher into the sky. Junior might not have been a good fighter, but he had a lot of practice dodging and running, and Nicole growled in frustration as she ran after him.

"Just hold still!" she called, even though she knew it would be no use. Bad guys never did what you told them to.

Her earpiece crackled with Nightwing's response, coming out in a pretty carefree tone for someone fighting a werewolf. "Having trouble, Sparky?"

"Oh, quit laughing, Bird Brain, and focus on your own fight!" she responded. Another column of fire melted yet another attempted ice-strike, but once the steam cleared, Junior had already started to run again. With a half-strangled, frustrated scream, Ember took off in pursuit yet again.

She rounded the corner into an alley two seconds behind Junior, grinning when she saw the dead end. "Finally!" A moment later, she had to dodge a barrage of icicles, and while she was still recovering, Junior started using his ice to try to escape over the two-story wall.

Before he was more than halfway up, a dark figure landed atop it and dropped two explosive pellets onto the ice ladder, shattering it and dropping the would-be villain back to the ground. He started to stand, only to stop when he saw that Ember now stood over him, smirking under her mask. "Ready to slow down, now?"

"You're welcome!" Nightwing called from atop the wall.

Nicole only glared up at him, quickly moving to cuff Junior and attach the inhibitor collar. "You'd better already have Moony trussed up and ready to go."

"Of course I do," he protested, not taking offence, since he knew why she was so tense. "Relax, Ember. You've got plenty of time."

Nicole didn't feel reassured.

* * *

Mal looked up as the Zeta Tubes in the Hall activated, but before he could call a greeting to the two returning heroes, a red-clad blur raced past him without a word. Guardian turned a questioning expression to Nightwing, hoping the detective could explain the fire-wielder's out-of-character behavior.

In answer, Nightwing glanced at the time read-out on his wrist computer. "11:58," he observed. "She's got two minutes to turn in the paper—which she's already written out. Plenty of time."

Mal nodded, now understanding, having gone through college himself, and knowing that Nicole, like Karen, took timeliness and assignments seriously—a stressful approach when one had to balance the life of a hero with the life of a student.

"Plenty of time," Nightwing repeated, completely relaxed, until a half-strangled scream of rage, frustration, and despair echoed down the hall. All at once, the detective paled, and though none could see it under his mask, dark blue eyes filled with concern and sympathy both as he winced. "...Unless Blackboard crashes."

* * *

**So, yeah. I guess this is what happens when I try to come up with a one-shot idea while sitting in class. But hey, This is something could very much picturing happening to Nicole, and I also wanted to show the more causal, bantering side of this couple, so I figured a slice-of-life one-shot was the way to do so. And, of course, I couldn't resist including the true villains of every college kid's life: Blackboard and deadlines.  
****Anyway, if you saw anything you particularly liked, or something you saw that you think I can fix/improve next time, don't hesitate to leave a review to let me know!**


	7. Perfect Strangers

**And with this chapter, we now begin my 'summer break' from fanfiction—as of today, I will not update this story or start any new ones until the school year resumes. I do have one one-shot idea buzzing around in my brain, but my hope is to get it written and published by the end of the day.  
****I'm sorry for the lengthy delay, but it's the only way I'll get through a really busy time. (Ironic that I'll have more time to write/post during my senior year of college than over the summer before, but that's just how it is for me.)  
****Have a great summer, and I'll see you all next year!**

* * *

**Hey, ModernDayBard here! Until there's enough interest/inspiration for a full sequel to if 'I'm a Hero Why Don't I Feel Super?' I figured I'd post a series of one shots with Nightwing and Nicole. There will be no regular updates, as I just jot these down as they come to me.  
****Of course: I don't own YJ, or its associated characters—just my oc's.**

* * *

Going to the theater—be it for a movie or for a live show—as a date had its pros and cons when one's date was Dick Grayson.

On the one hand, it meant less scrutiny from the public and paparazzi, since the audience's attention was (supposed to be) on the stage or screen, not one another. On the other, by the same reasoning, there wasn't much opportunity to talk to each other—at least, not without incurring the wrath of those sitting nearby.

Likewise, Dick could get tickets to any show or movie they wished to see, but because of the tendency of the crowd to follow prominent figures in setting trends, a simple choice of personal preference could have potentially disastrous consequences for one show passed over in favor of another.

Afterwards, the two did enjoy lengthy analytical conversations about what they had seen, but it was always difficult to slip unobtrusively from the theater, should their other personas be required.

Then, of course, depending on the genre, there were _other_ disadvantages of accompanying a detective…

* * *

"Dick, don't," Nicole whispered as intermission began. As she'd feared, when the house lights had come up, she'd seen 'that look' on her boyfriend's face. "That's not the point."

The young man's puzzled scowl only lessened slightly, but it became enough of an enquiring look that the red head sitting beside him felt that she could elaborate.

"I know you're trying to 'solve' the mystery, but that's not how this musical works. Tonight, the ending will be whatever this audience decides it will be; tomorrow it may be different—that's the draw factor of _Drood._"

Dick paused before replying, glancing around the university's theater, hoping he wasn't ruining Nicole's evening. She'd seen the show by herself a few weeks before, since a friend of hers from class played the title role, and had since become obsessed with the adaptation of Dickens' final (unfinished) work in much the same way as she did her favorite books. That was why he'd gotten the tickets so they could share the experience together. And he _was_ enjoying the show—the jokes were funny, the tunes upbeat, the cast excellent, and the complete lack of a fourth wall added a unique twist—but still…

"But—but it's a _mystery!_" realizing this didn't explain his seeming irrational need to find a solution, he continued: "I mean, Dickens' original plan was for _one_ solution—right? And the cast has to have an ideal ending in mind—"

"Not necessarily," Nicole quickly replied. "I mean, yes: most critics agree on who probably did it in the original, but Rupert Holmes did his best to acknowledge that with leaving it open-ended for the audience to choose. And as for the cast, well, Abigail said that, on any given night, an actor could decide that they want to be the murderer, so they play up different beats in hopes of getting the audience to choose them—in different ways than on nights that they want to be, say, lover. And the y don't necessarily coordinate with each other, so anyone could be angling for our vote."

And he knew that, but still… "But can't there be _one _strong ending?"

"Nine hundred and fifty—tough some are debatably stronger than others."

Dick said nothing, only regarding her with mild surprise, prompting further elaboration:

"5 possible detectives—uh, more on that in Act Two—8 possible murderers (well, actually only 7 on any given night, since one cannot be both detective and murderer) and 12 or 15 possible couples, depending on whether the murderer was male or female. Doing the math, you end up with 950 possible ending combinations."

The red head finally paused, suddenly made aware, by the stunned stares of those sitting closest to the couple, that she'd been rambling. Embarrassed, she felt the beginnings of a blush creep up her cheeks, but her original goal had succeeded, at least, as Dick finally released his scowl and began to chuckle softly.

Just as the young couple sotted a cast member en route to their section of the audience, ready for another round of fourth-wall shattering, the dark-haired detective leaned over, kissed his date's temple and whispered in her ear: "I wasn't doubting your math, I was just surprised that you'd counted."

Nicole's blush deepened, rivaling her hair. "Oh."

* * *

**So, yeah. A bit of an odd one this time, but like Nicole I have recently become obsessed with the musical **_**The Mystery of Edwin Drood**_** after my University's production this past spring, and I started wondering what would happen with a detective in the audience of such a counter-intuitive mystery.  
****(In a side note, I'd originally planned to write that idea using Sherlock in the sequel I'm eventually planning for **_**New Neighbors**_**,****but I figured it would be easier to get Nightwing in the audience than Sherlock. I guess I'll need a new show for the other story…)  
****Regarding **_**Drood**_**, two pieces of advice: 1, if you get the chance at all GO SEE IT, especially if the cast is good-quality; 2, under NO circumstances should you EVER vote Jasper for murderer—he will confess anyway, but if someone else was picked, he will then be told that he was not the murderer, and the true pick will then sing **_**their**_** confession. Don't vote for Jasper, and you'll get two for one. Other than that, vote for whomever you wish and enjoy the show!  
****Anyway, if you saw anything you particularly liked, or something you saw that you think I can fix/improve next time, don't hesitate to leave a review to let me know!**


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